Idjits
by Phoenix0in0the0dark
Summary: One-shot of a short interaction between Sam and Dean and Bobby on a hunt. Kind of based on a concept from 'Weekend at Bobby's' First Supernatural fic, but I hope to do more. I do not own the characters, sadly.


"Yeah, the silver thing didn't really pan out," explained Dean from the other end of the phone. Somewhere in Boulder, Colorado, Sam and Dean were allegedly 'handling' a group of maenads, or 'raving ones'. (What do you call a group of mythical beings, anyways? A herd? A gaggle? Bobby wasn't entirely sure) Though Dean had joked that the followers of Dionysus were just chicks looking for a good time, the whole sleeping-with-then-murdering-men-in-the-morning-after thing seemed to sober him up.

"Didn't pan out?" questioned Sam in an exasperated tone, "You forgot to actually, you know, _get_ the silver."

"Right," Dean glossed over Sam's accusation, "anyways, we need an alternative. You got anything?"

"Alright boy, so, you're saying you want me to find a way to finish off these things in a way that even you two can't mess up?" Bobby couldn't help but antagonize him seeing as nothing ever seemed to go the Winchesters' way.

"Hey! We don't always-" the rest of Dean's protest was cut short by the sound of shattering glass and a shriek from one enemy as Sam ran her through with his machete.

"Essentially, yes," Dean conceded, momentarily breaking away from his cell to decapitate one monster and shoot another between the eyes.

"Gimme a minute." Bobby began to rummage around his organized mess of a library looking for the source that had given him the first solution. Dusting off yet another obscure volume written half in Latin, he sat down at his desk to search for the answer.

"Bingo," he muttered.

"What?" Dean demanded, more wailing came from the Greek creatures as they were cut down only to reform again.

"You gotta torch the suckers," Bobby summarized, "a little salty seasoning, they go up in flames, and you get home in time for dinner and pie." More grunting and vague screaming reached his ears.

"Sammy, deep-fry the bitches!" Bobby waited, and waited, and waited. Cramming the phone between his ear and his shoulder he rose from his chair. He wasn't sure if he was preparing to go anywhere, but the waiting was making him antsy.

"Dean? Sam? Boys?" He was getting impatient.

"I swear, you keep me on hold any longer, I'll come down there and kick both your asses into next week," he promised. More silence…then a cough.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

"What?! What happened? Dean?!"

"That last bitch dinged Baby! I'm gonna rip her freaking lungs out!" a sound like someone kicking a body rang though the phone. Knowing Dean, it was probably the offending maenad's corpse receiving the rough treatment.

"Shut up, Dean, are you boys okay?"

"Sorry, Bobby, we're good," came Sam's gasping voice through the speaker. Bobby deflated, relieved.

"Though, for all his considerable practice, Dean still can't manage to light a lighter on the first frigging try."

"Bite me, Sam," responded Dean from a little further away. Bobby huffed a laugh, shifting his phone to his hand again as he relaxed back into his chair.

"You two scare me like that again, I'll make good on my promise just on principal," Bobby threatened emptily. Sam's breathless laugh floated through the speaker.

"Yes sir," Dean said. Bobby could picture him giving a mocking, lazy, two-fingered salute to the phone.

"Sorry, Bobby," Sam apologized again, still panting.

"Just get yourselves home in one piece, and we'll have a talk."

"Yeah, Bobby," that was Dean again, "we'll be back soon, and thanks…for, you know…your help." Bobby sighed, knowing it had taken a lot of effort on Dean's part to swallow his pride and admit that they needed Bobby's help.

"It's alright boy, that's what I'm here for."

"See you soon, Bobby," promised Sam. _Click._

Bobby chuckled again at those two boys.

They may be thick sometimes, even irritating and seemingly ungrateful, but they were as good as his and he had a mind to be there for him in any way or form they needed. Though Dean, especially, would never actually verbally acknowledge it, they needed him.

And maybe, he needed them a little, too.


End file.
